


Prodigal

by libbertyjibbit



Series: TMA October Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Chains, Extremely Dubious Consent, Incest, Introspection, Isolation, M/M, shackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libbertyjibbit/pseuds/libbertyjibbit
Summary: Peter slides one of his hands around the back of Evan's neck, cupping it. The other he uses to tilt his head up. "Look at you," he says, voice thick. "All this time and you're still pretending you don’t want it."Evan shakes his head. "I don't," he says, but it feels like a lie.Evan returns to the fold. Peter helps.
Relationships: Evan Lukas/Peter Lukas
Series: TMA October Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949629
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Prodigal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober Day 1: Waking up restrained | shackled | hanging.
> 
> I seem to have confused whumptober with kinktober. *facepalms* I hope you enjoy regardless.

Evan's shoulders ache. He doesn’t know how long he's been like this, strung up and stripped down - time has ceased to matter the longer that he's been here - but he's managed to fall asleep in spite of his discomfort, so he guesses it's been a while.

He gets his feet under him, ignoring his wobbling legs as best he can as he stands on his toes, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his arms. All it does is make him more aware of how much they hurt.

He hears the door open but doesn't open his eyes. Peter, he thinks. It'll be Peter, Peter who's waited until just this moment to return, waited so that he could be the one to break him at last.

Sure enough, a gentle hand lands on his cheek, stroking. Evan trembles. The hand is well-known to him, too well-known, even after all this time. He wishes it weren't, wishes that he wasn't leaning into it already, body desperate for a touch, any touch, but especially weak for this gentleness. It's no use, of course. He's always been weak for this, and Peter has always known.

Peter slides one of his hands around the back of Evan's neck, cupping it. The other he uses to tilt his head up. "Look at you," he says, voice thick. "All this time and you're still pretending you don’t want it."

Evan shakes his head. "I don't," he says, but it feels like a lie.

Peter laughs lightly, stroking his thumb lightly along Evan's neck and making him shiver. "So you say." The hand around his neck slips down, fingers trailing over his chest, his belly, and then finally to his groin, cupping him. It feels good; feels as good as it always has, and Evan's legs widen without his permission, hips tilting, arching towards Peter's touch. Evan's hands curl around the chains above his head and clench down, holding on as Peter begins to stroke him. He bites his lip against a moan, and Peter laughs again.

"You can't hide from me, Evan," he says. "You never could."

Evan doesn't answer, but he doesn't fight either as Peter continues to fondle him. He clenches his eyes shut as hard as he can as his body writhes, wrists twisting inside of shackles, arms flexing, shoulders aching worse than ever. He hates Peter, hates him, but his body knows this, knows how good Peter can make it feel. How good Peter always makes it feel.

Peter strokes him until he's fully hard and straining into every touch, vow not to let any sound escape him forgotten as he moans and rocks into Peter's hand. Evan can feel his eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl. After so long without any eyes on him at all it is weird to have them now, and he wants nothing more than to hide, to go unseen in his pleasure.

"Don't," he says, "please don't - stop _looking_ at me."

"As you like," Peter says, and Evan can hear the pride in his voice. He lets go of Evan and undoes his flies; Evan hears the soft sound of cloth hitting the floor before he's turned, spun around so that his back is to Peter.

"Lift up," he says, and Evan does it without thinking, standing on his toes and using his grip on the chains to lever himself up even farther, ignoring the warning twinge that travels down his arms. Obeying Peter is instinctive; Evan might have escaped for a time but old habits die hard. Peter makes a soft, approving noise behind him before he presses up against Evan's back, guiding his cock inside of his body with the same practiced ease as he always used to. Evan's body opens to him the same old way, too: eagerly, wantonly. The way Peter trained it to.

"That's it," Peter says. It has all led to this, everything that has been done to him thus far. The hours or days spent hanging from the ceiling, left alone, ignored, forgotten by everyone, followed by this, Peter's hands on his body, his cock in his arse and voice in his ear. Everything demanding that he surrender at last, and with a sigh that is almost a sob Evan does. He lets go, gives Peter what he wants. What they both want. His feet come off the ground, legs curling around Peter's as best they can. His shins press against Peter's calves, pulling him in closer as he begins to thrust, and Evan moans and lets his head fall back against Peter's shoulder. He's lost in more ways than one.

Peter's fingers curl lightly around Evan's hips, too lightly to leave marks. It doesn’t matter. Peter's mark was left long ago, too deep for anyone else to touch. "I knew you'd come back to us," he says, fond, and Evan's toes curl as he comes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked, please consider letting me know. :)


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